


Snow

by moodymarshmallow



Series: My Dear Warden [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow





	Snow

_I’d say you make a perfect_  
 _Angel in the snow_  
 _All crushed out on the way you are_  
 _Better stop before it goes too far_  
 _Don’t you know that I love you_  
 _Sometimes I feel like only a cold still life_  
 _That fell down here to lay beside you_

It was apparent now that Theron had gone mad. The only alternative explanation was that he genuinely enjoyed this pointless trek up the rock face, and Zevran was unwilling to accept that as a possibility. Ferelden was cold enough without actively seeking the snow. Zevran didn’t understand, yet here he was anyway, wearing a thick woolen cloak over his armor, traipsing up goat-paths and winding around precarious rock formations that just screamed “avalanche.”

__

He thought about making a list of all the insane ventures he’d been part of since joining Theron, but quickly came to the realization that everything he’d done since arriving in Ferelden was mad in one way or another. Between The Fade and the Deep Roads alone there was an entire book. He’d have to find a bard or a scholar to help him get the story down on paper, someday, if he was ever given the chance to sit down and rest for a minute.

They climbed in relative silence, snow crunching under their boots, wind tearing at the hoods. Zevran did ask what Theron’s plan was, and why it needed to be accomplished at the top of a mountain, but only got a smile as an answer.

Truth was, Zevran didn’t have to go with him. Theron would explain a situation with varying levels of urgency and detail, then say: “So, are you coming?” Maybe the Warden’s face would be grave, or the corner of his mouth would be curled into the shadow of a smile, but he always asked, never ordered, and Zevran always followed. At first it was out of a sense of duty; the Warden had spared his life, after all. It was necessary then for him to show a measure of loyalty, lest the Warden or his friends reconsider the sense in trusting a man who’d tried to kill them. Later, he had his own reasons to go along.

They stopped on a flat ledge, surrounded by a sheer climb that made impossible for them to continue. Theron pulled back his fur-lined hood, a glint of gold sparkling on his left ear.

“This is what I wanted you to see,” he said, sloughing off his cloak to spread it out on the snow before sitting down.

“There’s nothing here!” Zevran dropped beside him with a frustrated sigh, but lifted an arm to gather the Warden under his cloak when Theron leaned on him. Fat white snowflakes were falling, stars on the night sky of Theron’s dark hair. After brushing them off, Zevran looked down, over the ledge, and saw Ferelden spread out underneath them like map, the dark green blotch of the wilds visible just as well as Redcliffe Castle and the Tower of Magi. If he squinted, he thought he could see Denerim. He got it now.

“You are infuriating sometimes,” he said softly. Leave it to a Dalish to hike up a mountain for the view.

“It’s why we’re good together,” Theron said in a familiar, private hush, pressing his cold nose against Zevran’s cheek.  

There was no good comeback for the truth, so Zevran sat with him in the snow, silent, freezing, and loving him profoundly.


End file.
